Lord Iverbrook's Heir (22 page)

She blushed. “And when I am not dressed up?” she asked.

“You look like a farmer! Selena, I shall have to spend some time in London, in Parliament and working with Wilberforce. Will you come with me? If I find you a good bailiff who will follow your orders and manage the marketing and castrating of the bullocks? Will you come with me?”

Selena twisted in his arms until she could see his face. He looked so uncertain, half hopeful, half doubtful, that she had to kiss him.

“If you promise to take care of the harvest for me,” she said teasingly, “then I promise to go to London with you. Hugh, Mama says that if we choose to live here, she and Delia will rent a house nearby and . . ."

“Never! You cannot mean to turn your mother out of her home!”

“Hush, love, it is her notion, not mine. If you protest as vehemently as I already have, I am sure we will change her mind.”

“I most certainly shall protest! I shall tell her I am marrying you for your family and that she is an essential part of your dowry.”

“And not my farm? You will not try to take over the farm?”

“Heaven forbid! The harvest is quite as much farming as I care to indulge in. Unless, of course, you mean to take up pig farming, in which case I shall most definitely interfere!”

“We do have a few pigs,” she said thoughtfully. “I daresay you have not seen them. Come to think of it, there is room for a few more pens. We could even convert some of the cow byres, and keep the next few litters of piglets instead of selling them .  . ."

“Selena! If I thought for a minute that you were not roasting me!”

“Roast pork is one of my favourite dishes, and one cannot live without bacon and ham and sausage and lard, and pigskin makes excellent leather, not to mention a dozen uses for the bristles.”

“That,” he said, “is why I am so rich, but believe me, my love, riches are not everything. For instance, I obtained your betrothal present as much by knowledge, influence, and charm as by handing over the ready.”

“A betrothal present? Hugh, what is it? You have not had time to buy anything. We have only been betrothed for half a day.”

“Roughly fourteen hours and forty-five minutes. I cannot be precise as to the minutes since it was dark and I could not see my watch.”

“Odious wretch! What is it, Hugh?”

“A certain three fields, ideal for cattle pasture and most unsuitable for pigs.”

“Not Lord Alphonse’s watermeadows! You mean the watermeadows? Oh Hugh! But you cannot have purchased them this morning!”

“I had intended to give them to you anyway. You need not marry me to have them. I clinched the deal with Addlepate’s man on Monday, since I was in town. Yesterday, that is.”

“While I still thought you had run off to avoid having to explain your behaviour at the ball. That seems such a long time ago. I was so miserable when I thought you preferred Amabel to me. She is so beautiful.”

“If you admire that type of beauty,” he said indifferently. “
I
prefer tall, slender blonds with curly hair and eyes that change colour every time I look into them.” Looking into them, he fell silent, then roused himself with an effort. “Selena, I must go to Iver to tell my mother of our engagement. She will be deeply offended if I inform her by letter and not in person."

“Of course, but not today.”

“Also, there is a very old betrothal ring in the family — an heirloom —which I must fetch for you.”

“But not today?”

“Not today, my darling. I obey your every whim.”

“That is no whim,” said Selena firmly. “It is past noon and much too late to leave.”

Iverbrook laughed. “Always practical!” he said lovingly.

Chapter 17

On his return from Abingdon, Sir Aubrey retired to his chamber to nurse bruised spirit, bruised ribs, and an incipient cold. For the last two Lady Whitton provided remedies; for the first she had no sympathy. The baronet had endangered her daughter, and only her innate kindness led her to allow him to stay.

The story of his plight lost nothing in the telling. Bannister went about his duties with a grin on his usually impassive face, and even Cook was seen to crack a smile. Delia returned from Bracketts in time to hear the gentlemen’s version over luncheon, and was much inclined to take umbrage at her exclusion from the spectacle.

In the afternoon Selena and Hugh went walking along the river, leading Peter on Leo. Peter was blissful, and did not in the least mind being ignored for long periods. The rain had stopped and none of them noticed what a grey, chilly day it was.

They crossed Lord Alphonse Sebring’s watermeadows, Selena busy with plans for drainage and mowing.

“I’ll call them Addlepate’s Acres,” she said. “It will intrigue the country folk no end. They still argue over Farthing Field, which has been called that for generations. There’s a record of it in a book of farm accounts three hundred years old.”

“The Whittons have been here so long?”

“Since Richard II, and baronets since the Wars of the Roses, having cleverly chosen the winning side.”

“Four hundred years, then. To think I once called you petty squires!”

“We have never claimed nor aimed at nobility. But it is a respectable family history, is it not? Peter will have it all now. Perhaps I ought to have married Cousin Aubrey after all.”

“Just to preserve the name at Milford Manor? God forbid! Besides, you can always require that Peter change his name from Carrick to Whitton in order to inherit.”

“I don’t want to change my name,” said the child firmly. "I like being Peter. You said you won’t marry Uncle Aubrey, Aunt Sena. He’s a bad man. Finny says he maked Polly cry.”

“Does he snap at her? I have noticed that he is not good with the servants, and I’m afraid they do his bidding unwillingly. Is Mr. Hastings’s valet still taking care of his clothes, Hugh?”

“As you say, unwillingly, though I think your cousin does not try to come the high and mighty with him. Dimbury is not easily impressed, and Hasty is of the opinion that Sir Aubrey stands in some awe of him. At least the hummingbird waistcoat has not been seen for some time has it?”

Iverbrook debated whether to reveal to Selena his meeting with the baronet and the maid in the village. It seemed unwise to do so in Peter’s hearing, and by the time they returned to the Manor, he had forgotten the subject.

At dinner he asked Lady Whitton for a love-potion.

“Selena is as changeable as the moon,” he explained, eyes twinkling at her blush, “as I have cause to know! She may forget me while I am gone.”

“I wish I could provide you with one,” said Lady Whitton regretfully. “There must be magic involved for I have never read of a truly efficacious receipt. You need a real witch.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” pointed out Mr. Hastings.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Delia contradicted, “but you will not be gone for long.”

“No. With luck just two days, at most three. I dare not leave her longer!”

“Do you think Lady Lavinia will wish to come and inspect me?” asked Selena uneasily. “I have only met her once, when Gil and Phoebe were married.”

“Mama has not left Iver for years, even to go to London.”

“When Phoebe was betrothed, she and I went to stay at Iver Place for a few days,” said Lady Whitton. “I daresay you have forgotten, Hugh, but as head of the family and our host, you were present.”

He laughed. “Have you a potion to restore the memory, ma’am? I suppose Selena must go with me soon to do the pretty, but there is no hurry. We’ll let Mama recover from the news first.”

* * * *

Sir Aubrey had still not emerged from his chamber when, early the next morning, Lord Iverbrook set off for Iver Place.

“Keep an eye on him for me, Hasty,” requested his lordship from his seat in his curricle. “And the other eye on Selena. I do not wish to hear when I come home that she has been abducted.”

“Do you think he is plotting?” asked Delia eagerly.

“I don't trust him. Selena, you are not to leave the house with him on any pretext.”

“As you wish, my lord.” She curtseyed and dimpled at him, her curls shining in the pale October sunlight.

"I mean it! Let’s be off, Tom, before she openly defies me.”

He blew a kiss to Selena as the greys trotted sedately down the drive.

Selena walked down to the river. A few late roses bloomed among the Michaelmas daisies and autumn crocuses. The great oak was golden now, its leaves falling in slow spirals to float away downstream, following Hugh.

In a mood of gentle melancholy, Selena returned to the house. In a couple of hours John Peabody would be coming to see her. She had scarcely thought about farm business for several days and she must have clear instructions ready for the bailiff or nothing would be done right. At first it was difficult to concentrate on winter wheat and hedging and ditching, but as usual the details soon absorbed her. There were buildings in need of repair before the weather deteriorated, honey to be taken from the beehives, and Addlepate’s Acres must be ploughed and sown to good grass.

By two o’clock she had seen John Peabody, brought her accounts up to date, and written some letters. She was sealing the last of these when there was a knock on the door and Mr. Hastings’s round face appeared.

“My dear Miss Whitton, you have been closeted in the library long enough! I am in need of fresh air; will you ride with me?”

"Willingly. I expect Delia will go too.”

“She is gone out for a drive with Mr. and Miss Russell.”

“And you stayed behind?”

“I promised Hugh to keep an eye on you. I should not dare to leave the house without you!”

“This will never do. Have you been sitting in the hall, watching the library door for six hours lest I should escape you, like a cat at a mousehole?”

“Certainly not. Dimbury has not yet forgiven me for the depredations on my wardrobe caused by my boat ride the other day. If I were so lost to propriety as to crouch on the floor like a cat at a mousehole, I daresay he would leave me.”

“Thus effectively destroying your reputation at a blow?” Selena laughed. “Have you eaten luncheon, sir?”

“Yes, I joined Lady Whitton. She will not make a love philtre for me, either.”

“If I understand you aright, Mr. Hastings, I hope you will use no love philtre, nor any other persuasion until Delia has seen a little more of the world. And perhaps I ought to warn you that she is looking for—now how did she put it?—a man who
is
as romantic as he
looks.”

Mr. Hastings grimaced. “I qualify in neither. And young Clive is the image of a hero in a novel.”

“She has known him forever and he has quashed her flights of fancy time without number.”

“I shall encourage them! But do not fear, I’ll not press my suit yet awhile. Shall we go?”

“Unlike you, I have not eaten. Allow me a few minutes to change my dress and visit Cook, and I will be with you.”

They rode into Abingdon, where Mr. Hastings had an errand to perform.

“Lady Whitton mentioned that she is running short of oil of sweet almonds,” he explained. “If I may not court the daughter, I must needs court the mother. Besides, it is time I expressed my appreciation for her hospitality.”

He was doomed to disappointment. It would have to be sent for, said the grocer, to Oxford or even to London.

“What else do you have?” asked Mr. Hastings. When the grocer shrugged and spread his arms expressively, he started wandering around, sniffing and poking in bags and barrels. “I’ve never been in a grocer’s shop before,” he confided to Selena. “Fascinating place. Just smell these spices. Does your mother grow these?”

“Most of them grow in the tropics, I believe.”

“I’ll get some. If she can’t use ‘em, Cook can have ‘em. Incidentally, Miss Whitton, are you aware of that little romance?”

“Cook in love?” Selena was startled. “You must be mistaken. She has been with us since before I was born and never had an admirer to my knowledge.”

“Cook and Hugh’s Tom,” confirmed Mr. Hastings. “I asked Dimbury and instead of denying it he went all prim and proper on me, really pokered up, so I’m ready to wager on it. Hi, boy! Let’s have a pound of this, what is it, nutmeg, and one each of turmeric, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, cardamom—deuced if they don’t all start with a C!”

“We usually sell them by the ounce, sir,” said the grocer’s boy, awed. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Turney. They’re ever so expensive.”

“And they are used in very small quantities,” Selena added as her companion looked alarmed. “They lose their flavour quickly.”

“Very well, an ounce of each of them.” Mr. Hastings recovered his poise. “Don’t want to waste the stuff. Besides, we are riding and we don’t want to carry a lot of parcels.”

“We can deliver it, sir.”

“No, I’ll take it. Present for a lady. Just tie ‘em up nicely, my dear fellow.”

The package disappeared into the capacious pocket of his riding coat without producing a bulge large enough to spoil its line. They turned homewards across the fields.

“Past quarterday,” explained Mr. Hastings sheepishly. “I’ll have to go up to town to pick up my allowance when Hugh gets back. I’ll be sorry to leave, dashed if I won’t. Never thought the country could be so amusing.”

“You’ll always be welcome at Milford, Mr. Hastings, as Hugh’s friend if not Delia’s suitor. You have known Hugh forever, have you not?”

“Since Harrow.”

“Was he a good student? He has a good memory for Greek myths.”

“Only the scandalous ones, I’ll be bound! Oh, beg your pardon, Miss Whitton. Shouldn't have said that.”

Selena waved aside his apology. “Phoebe once described him to me as a ‘wild and reckless blade.’”

“No, ma’am, did she? I say, that’s going too far! An out-and-outer, up to every rig and row in town, but never going beyond the line, I do assure you. Always welcome everywhere, especially by the matchmaking mamas. Hugh’s had more caps set at him than any man I know and never cared a fig for any of ‘em. Dashed if I thought he’d take my advice.”

“Your advice?”

“That’s right. Wouldn’t take it about a coat or a horse, but ‘Marry her, my dear fellow,’ I said, and here he is, betrothed.”